


The House

by casesandcapitals



Series: The AU AU [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 07:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an old house, Frank and Gerard discover a doorway to an alternate universe, and another universe, and another...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis

"Come on, Gerard, you're not scared are you?" Frank grinned.  
"No!" Gerard squeaked. "It just... doesn't look very safe."  
Frank rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at the abandoned house. Its roof was still intact even though it was partially covered in moss. The windows were all broken, leaving weather-worn shards that dimly reflected Frank's flashlight. Weeds and vines choked the yard and covered most of the walls, but some chips of off-white paint could still be seen. The front door, a dark, chipped red, was tightly closed.  
"It's fine," Frank said, turning back to Gerard. "The roof's all there and the walls aren't even cracked or anything."  
Gerard shifted from one foot to the other, biting his lip and clutching the straps of his backpack.  
"If you punk out then I'm gonna have to spend the whole night by myself, is that what you want?"  
" _Frank_ ," Gerard whined.  
"And then maybe I'll fall down the stairs and die or scratch my arm on a rusted nail and get tetanus and die and then you'll have to go to my funeral and be all _oh, I could have saved him but I was too much of a pussy_ and then everyone will laugh at you and you'll _still_ owe Jimmy fifty dollars because you didn't spend the night like you said you would."  
"Don't use that word like that," Gerard said weakly.  
"Oh my _God_ , Gerard," Frank answered, rolling his eyes.  
"Fine, _fine_. Let's just get this over with."  
The seventeen year old surprised Frank by passing him by and heading for the old house. Frank grinned and hurried to catch up. They climbed the three steps to reach the door and Gerard touched the tarnished silver handle.  
"Okay," he muttered. He twisted the knob and pushed, letting the door slowly creak open. Their flashlights illuminated sections of an entryway; a broken bench, a coatrack fallen to the dirty floor, a frayed old jacket, and a pair of black boots in a corner like they had just been set there.  
"Jesus," Frank whispered. "This is so cool."  
Gerard hmm'd but didn't sound like he agreed.  
Frank stepped around him and headed for the next room. There were bookcases there but the only books left had been ravaged by time and weather.  
"Living room, do you think?" Frank asked, shining his light at an old sofa.  
"Who cares, let's just find somewhere to set up for the night."  
"Duh, dude, Jimmy's been here before. If we don't describe the place to him he's not gonna believe we actually came. And besides, we have to find something to take back."  
Gerard sighed, setting his backpack on the floor. "When we win the bet I'm taking all the money because you fucking owe me one."  
"Deal, as long as you buy me the new Deadpool issue," Frank said.  
"Deal. Let's go explore then."

"Do you think the stairs are okay to climb?" Frank whispered, peering up toward the second floor.  
"I thought you said this place was totally safe?" Gerard whispered back harshly.  
"I said the roof and the walls looked fine, I didn't say anything about the stairs."  
"Well, has anyone ever talked about the second floor?"  
Frank bit his lip and looked at his sneakers.  
"Frank?!"  
"I'm thinking!" He looked up again. "I'm not- I don't remember anyone ever talking about the upstairs."  
"Well, we haven't found anything down here worth taking back and I'm absolutely _not_ going in the basement."  
"Yeah. Yeah, alright," Frank nodded. He sucked in a breath and climbed the first stair. It creaked and Frank winced.  
"I thought you weren't scared?" Gerard teased.  
"I'm not scared of monsters or the dark or the legend of the crazy scientist dude who did experiments here or about the ancient Indian burial ground that everyone says is under this place," Frank said. "But I am scared of potentially falling to my death on termite eaten stairs."  
"You're like eight inches off the ground," Gerard pointed out.  
"Shut up," Frank muttered. He took the next few steps gingerly then turned back to Gerard. "Aren't you coming?"  
"'Course."  
The two boys slowly made their way up the steps and tried to hide their relief from each other when they finally made it.  
"Left or right?" Gerard asked, shining his flashlight down the hallway they had reached.  
"Uhm, left."  
Frank took the lead and Gerard followed close behind. Frank opened the first door they came to and found a closet packed full of boxes and junk.  
"Let's find something in here and then go back down," Gerard suggested.  
"What about the other rooms up here?" Frank said. "We could be the first ones to ever check them out!"  
Gerard huffed and just barely resisted rolling his eyes. "Fine. We find something first, then check out the other rooms, _then_ go back downstairs. Okay?"  
"Awesome."  
They started rifling through the closet, examining items with their flashlights. There were books, candlesticks with chips of wax still clinging, leather shoes, varnished silverware, a stuffed cat that horrified Frank, quills sticky with ink, jewelry, and odd pieces of clothing.  
“What the fuck, I can't believe no one's ever come up here before,” Frank whispered, shining his light on a string of pearls.  
“What should we take back?” Gerard wondered.  
“One of the shirts, probably.” Frank reached into the mess and pulled out a once-white shirt. “If we take the jewelry, Jimmy'll just think we got it from a pawn shop. And the shirt's easy to carry.”  
“Sure you don't want to take the stuffed cat?” Gerard teased.  
“Uhg, no. God, what the fuck.” Frank shivered, made a face, then shut the closet door.  
“Back downstairs?”  
“No dude, we're looking around.” Frank hung the shirt from the closet doorknob so he could grab it again before they went downstairs, then headed for the next door. It opened into a bedroom.  
“So creepy,” Gerard whispered as they shone their lights around. “Someone used to sleep here.”  
The lace curtains were frayed and moth eaten, as were the sheets that were ruffled as if someone had just climbed out of bed. There was a giant wooden cupboard and a table holding an ornate wash basin. The room smelled like rotten wood and dust, more so than the hallway had.  
“Woah, check it out,” Frank muttered, going to the table. On it was a horsehair brush, a handkerchief, and several rings. Frank picked up two of the rings and examined them closely.  
Gerard appeared over his shoulder and added his light, watching the rings sparkle as Frank turned them. One had a red jewel in it, the other green.  
Frank grinned and held the green-jeweled ring out to Gerard. “Here, present from me to you.”  
“I dunno,” Gerard said, plucking the ring from Frank's palm. “It feels kinda weird to steal right from their bedroom.”  
“We were already stealing from their closet, dude,” Frank said, slipping the red-jeweled ring onto his finger. “Besides, the green'll bring out your eyes.”  
Gerard flushed but the darkness hid it. He slid the ring onto his finger and grinned. “You reading your mom's magazines again?”  
“I had the flu last month, if you remember correctly,” Frank said, moving away to look out the dirty but unbroken window. “I read every fucking thing in our house.”  
“Oh man, if you get sick tonight your mom is gonna kill us both.”  
“At least we'll be dead men fifty dollars richer,” Frank chuckled, turning back to see Gerard raise his eyebrows. “Or, well, I guess you'll be a hundred dollars richer.”  
“And you'll get to read Deadpool while you recover from whatever weird illness we're probably gonna get from this gross house,” Gerard nodded. “Come on, let's go back downstairs.”  
“There's one more room!” Frank protested. He grabbed Gerard's hand and pulled him back into the hallway. Gerard had enough time to pull the bedroom door shut behind him before Frank dragged him down to the other end of the hall.  
The door stuck when Frank tried to open it. He had to let go of Gerard to push with both hands while Gerard turned the knob.  
It sprang open suddenly, causing them both to jump back. They paused and stared at each other, trying to slow their breathing. Finally, Frank shone his light into the room.  
It was a study, filled with bookcases and a large desk. There was an overstuffed chair pushed in a corner and an easel in another. Gerard stepped into the room first, immediately crossing to where a number of old canvases were leaning against a bookcase.  
“Look at these!” Gerard exclaimed, easing them apart and tilting his head to look at each one. “Whoever lived here must've been a painter... These are incredible.”  
“Did he sign his name?” Frank wondered idly, running a finger over some books.  
Gerard pulled a canvas from the stack and set it on a shelf, searching it with his flashlight.  
“No, but check it out.”  
Frank turned to look and blinked, confused.  
“Um, okay. I've heard literally every story and myth and urban legend about this place and the dude who lived here... and none of them had spaceships in them.”  
Gerard touched the canvas gently, tracing the outline of a silver ship, the background was black with galaxies colorfully added and even a small green and purple planet off to the side.  
“How would he even know about futuristic sci-fi stuff?” Gerard wondered. “Like, I don't think anyone talked about spaceships in the 1800's or whenever he was alive.”  
Frank stepped over to the stack of paintings, thumbing through them and checking each one.  
“This one has robots... and this one has mermaids? Is this... are these fucking _zombies_? What the hell is all this? Did Jimmy put these here to fuck with us?”  
“They were all painted by the same person, as far as I can tell,” Gerard said, setting the spaceship painting back with the stack.  
“Didn't Jimmy's older brother go to college for like, acting or something? Maybe one of his art school friends did them.”  
“Why would they put them up here?”  
“To fuck with whoever Jimmy sends in? His brother used to bet people to stay the night too, when he was our age.”  
“They are way too into freaking people out,” Gerard said, shaking his head and turning away from the paintings.  
“No shit, I bet all the stories about this place are from them.” Frank flipped through a few more paintings then started looking around the room.  
“Everything else looks legit though,” Gerard muttered, checking the worn titles of the books on the shelf closest to him. “Unless they spent a fortune on really old books and furniture.”  
“This desk is really badass, too,” Frank said, blowing a huge gust of air over the desk and making dust fly up into the air. He coughed and waved a hand around while Gerard stepped closer.  
“Woah, totally steampunk.”  
The desk was made of dark wood and edged with black metal fittings. The legs ended in sharp black claws and the sides were carved into odd designs.  
“See?” Frank grinned, nudging Gerard with an elbow. “Aren't you glad you came with me? You never would've known this cool-as-fuck desk existed.”  
“You're way too excited about the desk,” Gerard grinned back.  
“It's cool!” Frank exclaimed. “Look, there's even like, a hidden compartment or something.” Frank ran his fingers along the top of the desk, where two black hinges were concealed.  
“Oh hey, nice catch,” Gerard said. He wouldn't have even noticed them if Frank hadn't pointed them out.  
“Is there...?” Frank ducked down to look along the bottom edge. “Oh yeah, there's a handle and a little button or something.”  
There was a sharp _click_ as Frank pressed the button, then a drawn out creak when he hefted the top layer of the desk up. Gerard helped him and they leaned it against the wall.  
“Holy... shit.”  
The second layer of the desk was set deeper inside and covered in more buttons, ten across in ten neat rows. At the bottom were a few rolled pieces of parchment and a quill. Gerard went to reach for the papers but before he could move, the desk began to hum.  
Frank opened his mouth, probably to swear again, but suddenly the buttons started to light up, one by one. They flickered to life with an yellow-white glow, revealing curling little black numbers set into each button. They numbered 1 to 100, only 37 and 52 not lighting up.  
Gerard clicked his flashlight off and Frank followed his example. He reached in, slowly, and brushed a finger over one of the buttons. It was slightly warm.  
Frank ducked back down and looked under the desk.  
“It's not plugged into the wall or anything...” he said softly, voice just loud enough to hear over the hum. “No outlets, and I don't see anywhere batteries would go.”  
“Do you think Jimmy and his brother set this up too?” Gerard wondered, moving to touch the 37th button. It was cold.  
Frank stood up again and frowned at the desk. “That's like... way more effort then I think they'd put into anything. And like, wouldn't they have put this in the legends so people would look for it? I don't think they'd put something so weird here if no one was likely to find it, right?”  
“I don't think they put this here,” Gerard muttered. He pulled his hand back.  
“Hey,” Frank said, grinning again. “Dare you to hit a button and see what happens.”  
“And start a war game or something? No thank you,” Gerard scoffed.  
“Aw, you big baby. I double-dare you.”  
“What are you, twelve?” Gerard laughed. “I'm not hitting a button, no way. You do it.”  
“I'm not doing it! I dared you first.”  
“Let's go back downstairs.”  
“No way man, I'm not going anywhere until I figure out what the fuck this desk is,” Frank said, squaring his shoulders.  
Gerard rolled his eyes and flicked his flashlight back on. He reached into the desk and took out one of the rolls of parchment.  
“ _May 2nd, 1823_ ,” he read softly. “ _The 52nd World blinked into the void this morning. I shall never know what or who lived there, only that they live there no longer_.”  
“Creepy,” Frank muttered, eyeing the dark button that held the number 52.  
“ _I have caused, what I believe to be, irreparable damage to the 12th World,_ ” he continued, unrolling the parchment as he went. “ _I fear to return and be forced to look upon the ruined lives of those within. May the souls of their children forgive me_.”  
“Okay, I'm fucking over this,” Frank said suddenly. “This is too creepy even for me.”  
Gerard let the parchment roll back up and gave Frank an odd look.  
“I thought nothing was too creepy for you,” he said slyly.  
“You're telling me this isn't freaking you out?!” Frank asked, eyes wide and lit from the glow of the numbered buttons.  
“Oh no,” Gerard said. “I'm practically shitting myself here, I just thought nothing could scare you.”  
“If this was a movie I would think it was lame, but seeing as how I'm standing right here and that dude wrote _may the souls of their children forgive me_ , I'm over it.” He paused, looking the desk over before snapping his eyes to Gerard. “And I'm not _scared_ , just creeped out.”  
“You're totally scared,” Gerard said, a strained chuckled bubbling up his throat. He dropped the parchment back into the desk and quickly searched the room behind them with the beam of his flashlight.  
“I'm not scared,” Frank said, crossing his arms then uncrossing them.  
“If you're not scared,” Gerard found himself saying, “then press a button.”  
Frank stared at him and Gerard stared back, mentally replaying what he had said. Just as he was about to open his mouth to take it back, Frank blinked and looked back to the buttons.  
“Fine,” he said. “Which one?”  
Gerard looked down at the buttons as well. “Um, what's your lucky number?”  
“Thirteen,” Frank answered immediately.  
“You can't hit thirteen, that's my unlucky number.”  
“It's everyone's unlucky number, you're so unoriginal,” Frank said, almost sounding back to normal. “What's _your_ lucky number?”  
“Um... seven.”  
“Oh my God,” Frank chuckled. He slowly passed a hand over the hundred buttons. “How about... just, number one?”  
Gerard gulped and pretended it hadn't sounded so loud. The humming of the desk had quieted a bit, or maybe he was just getting used to it. “Sure. Number one, go for it.”  
Frank set a finger over the first button, the light glinting off his stolen red-jeweled ring. He took a breath, glanced at Gerard, then shrugged.  
“Alright, here goes nothing.”  
He pressed the button and snatched his hand back. Instead of popping back up, the button stayed pressed, the glow from the other buttons seeming to dim as the number one grew brighter. There was a _click-whirr_ like when someone on TV sets a bomb, and both Frank and Gerard flinched.  
“Well, that was-” Frank started to say, but cut off suddenly.  
Gerard didn't have to ask why he stopped, because he could feel it too. The ring on his hand was suddenly warm, like it had been sitting in the sun all day, and his stomach flipped over like when Frank drove too fast over a hill.  
“What's-?”  
They both shouted as a bright light filled the room.

**Author's Note:**

>   
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> Art by [Ash](http://alannahaviss.tumblr.com/post/140276963750/casesandcapitals-fan-fiction-illustration-read-it)  
> 


End file.
